The Price We Pay for Love
by Oakmoss
Summary: 5 years after the war, Hermione has become Hogwarts's Charms Mistress and a Weasley. When her husband is killed in the line of duty, her world comes crashing down. Fortunately, help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. SS/HG. Character death (obviously...)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"My congratulations, Mr. Weasley," said Severus Snape amiably and shook hands with the groom. Ah, 5 years of peace had undeniably softened him. He could still snarl, certainly, but it was no longer his only means of expressing himself. In fact, he could be really rather charming when he felt so inclined. Tonight, he figured he could get away with a few niceties. This was Granger after all. He liked Granger. He owed Granger.

"Thanks Snape," Ronald beamed proudly. "And thank you for allowing me to live at Hogwarts."

"Yes well. It was that or finding a new charms teacher. Your wife is quite... gifted. I would hate to have to settle for someone less talented."

"High praise from you, Snape. You should tell her that. She'd love to hear it. It could be your wedding present?"

"You will find that the large blue box with the silver bow contains the 10 inch cast iron casserole dish that was on your registry, Weasley. My gift-giving duties have been fulfilled."

"You're not supposed to say, Snape! You're ruining the fun of unwrapping. As long as you don't tell 'Mione... Oh, speak of the devil, hello love."

Hermione leaned up and kissed the tall ginger gently on the lips. Her fingers drifted over his jaw and then she turned and smiled at Severus. She looked every bit the blushing bride, he had to say. She'd chosen a muggle wedding dress rather than robes, but the ceremony had been according to wizarding traditions. He found the combining of their heritages quite touching. He was loath to admit it, but they did make a lovely couple. There was of course no arguing about who wore the trousers in the relationship, but they seemed... happy. Deliriously so. He envied it, naturally. It was everything he'd missed out on. He didn't feel the need to crush it though. They deserved it, she especially.

"Hello headmaster," she said respectfully, "don't tell me what now?"

"It's a secret," he replied and received a grateful smile from Ronald.

"I see. Conspiring against me. Very well, say no more, I can take a hint. Are you well, professor Snape? You must try the red wine, I think you'll like it. You do prefer red, don't you?"

"Indeed, the red is excellent. Not elf-made?" he questioned. He witnessed Hermione's hand reaching for Ronald's and their fingers entwining.

"Oh no, muggle. My father chose it, he's a bit of a wine buff. He's over there, you should go chat to him. You'll be alright, promise, he's not a dunderhead."

"He is a dentist though. Don't let him see your teeth," sniggered the redhead.

"Ronald! Don't be rude!" she gasped.

"It was a joke, love," soothed Ron, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

" 's not funny. Apologise," she scolded and her forehead held a deep line.

"Ah. I'm sorry, love."

"Not to me," she griped.

"Right. I'm sorry, professor. I didn't mean to offend. Sometimes I open my mouth and things just come tumbling out. Sorry, again."

"Think nothing of it. I've heard worse," Severus dismissed the matter gracefully. He had. He knew his teeth were crooked and yellow, but they were healthy. He also didn't want to be the cause of the Weasleys' first domestic.

"Thank you," she said to her new husband and kissed him again. "We should mingle," she continued, "but do enjoy yourself, sir."

"Ah, to the best of my abilities, I shall. I don't do parties well, Granger."

"Weasley, professor."

"Of course. Weasley. Like I said, not much of a party person. I appreciate the invitation though and I wish you both all the happiness in the world."

"Aww, how sweet!" sighed a delighted Hermione and she clasped Ronald's hand tightly.

"Bloody hell, Snape, when did you become so suave?"

"Around the same time you developed a vocabulary that contained suave, Weasley."

"Aaaaand we're back to the insults. A leopard doesn't change its spots, I suppose," snorted Ronald but the blissful smile was still plastered on his freckled face.

"Indeed. Well, Mr. Weasley, professor Weasley. Enjoy your honeymoon. I trust you will be back before the start of term?"

"Of course. Where would you be without your charms mistress and a Weasley to taunt?" she laughed heartily and the couple left to greet other guests.

"Lovely wedding, isn't it?" mused Arthur Weasley.

"Hrm," Severus agreed, sort of, accepting another glass of the rather marvellous red from a passing waiter.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Oh lordy, this was a pain to write up. I wanted a chapter to illustrate the changed Hogwarts after the war, but I keep getting distracted by shiny plot bunnies that took me down all sorts of rabbit holes. Oh well. I'll roll with it. ;)

**Chapter 2  
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It was at the Head Table in the Great Hall that he sometimes caught glimpses of Hermione Weasley, née Granger. The Charms Mistress would only attend when Ronald wasn't there, otherwise they'd take their meals together, in her quarters. But Ronald was absent regularly, his work as an auror requiring him to periodically go on prolonged missions. He would stay away for days on end and Severus would find Hermione chatting to various colleagues on these occasions. Tonight, she had taken a seat between Aurora Sinistra, who still taught Astronomy and had taken over from Filius as head of Ravenclaw, and Minerva McGonagall. As such, Hermione was now only one seat away from Severus and that allowed for very easy spying. Of course he had to listen in, how else would he be able to live up to the reputation of a certain omniscient headmaster that had preceded him?

"How long will he be gone for this time, Hermione?" asked Sinistra.

"Just a few days, he reckoned," replied the young Gryffindor teacher.

"But?" asked the deputy headmistress, who'd always been good at reading Hermione. Not that that was such an exceptional feat, the girl wore her heart on her sleeve, as was wont for Minerva's cubs.

"But it's hardly a reliable time scheme, is it, a few days? I try not to worry. Really, I do. I mean, Ron was an auror before we married and it would be rather hypocritical to now ask him to get a different job, but yes, of course I worry. I just wish I knew when to expect him back, you know? If I had a schedule, I might not worry until he was late. Does that make sense at all?"

"A little," allowed the older Gryffindor witch mildly. "Although I doubt you'd stop worrying, Hermione. You're not half as rational as you imagine yourself to be. And it's only normal to worry about your husband. Are you sure he wouldn't consider transferring to a less... high-risk department?"

"And do what? Desk work? Ron as a paper pusher? You know him, Minerva. He's got no talent for it whatsoever and he'd be bored out of his mind within an hour. No, I could never ask that of him. He loves his job. He's a brilliant auror, says Kingsley, and I realise I'm being silly, but... I can't help it. I guess I understand how it feels to be married to a policeman."

"A what now?" asked Sinistra who, as a pureblood, had never had much to do with the non-magical world.

"Er. Muggle aurors, pretty much. Although that rather ruined my comparison," said Hermione with a small smile. "It'll be fine."

"Of course it will. He won't take any unnecessary risks. He's got someone to come home to now."

"Aww, Aurora! That's so sweet!" cooed Hermione.

Sickeningly so, thought Severus, but he said nothing. The astronomy teacher shrugged and smiled.

"So how is everyone, Hermione? I haven't seen Harry since he started his one-on-one training with Kingsley. Is he still set to be the head of the aurory department?" Minerva enquired after her golden boy.

"Oh yes, he'll take over soon. Kingsley reckons he's about ready. Ronald can't stop talking about how it's going to be just like the old days with Harry in charge and him doing the legwork." Hermione rolled her eyes at this. For years she'd resented the all too convenient profiling of Harry as the bravado, Ron as the brawn and herself as the brain. Severus knew this as he felt similarly miffed by the caricatural portrayal of himself as a misunderstood tragic hero.

"And they're expecting again. Their third is due in May."

"Oh, how lovely! They must be over the moon?" asked Minerva.

"Naturally. Harry especially. He's always wanted a large family. And he is brilliant with James and Albus."

"Fatherhood suits him," conceded the Scottish woman.

"So what is it to be? Another boy?" asked Aurora Sinistra.

"They wouldn't say."

"Oh, must be a girl then," laughed McGonagall.

"That's what I'm thinking," simpered Hermione.

"And Ronald and you? Are you thinking of...?" Minerva prodded indelicately. Gryffindors... No subtlety whatsoever.

"Whoa, Minerva! Slow down. I've only been married 3 months! Let us enjoy each other first. Some day, definitely. But to be honest, I think we both have too much going on right now to give a child the attention it deserves. And I don't feel up to it yet. I know for Harry and Ginny it's... right, but I honestly can't see myself stuck neck-deep in nappies yet. Eventually, I'd love a family, but not right now. I'm only 24. A little older if you take the time turner into account, I suppose. But still, plenty of time before I need to start worrying about biological clocks and that."

Severus was gratified to see his most promising teacher display such good sense. What a waste of a brilliant mind it would be if she devoted her time only to populating the planet with even more Weasleys.

"But does your husband feel the same?" questioned Aurora sceptically. Apparently she shared her employer's impression of the Weasleys' ingrained need to further their line.

"Oh yes, we talked about it before the wedding of course. I was initially a bit worried he would want to start a tribe of his own. I mean, being a Weasley. But no, he's in no hurry and he doesn't want me to pop out one after the other. Said he'd rather have one or two. I guess he's always felt a bit... overlooked, being part of such a large family."

"Ah. That's good. I'm glad you're on the same page. I must confess I did wonder," nodded Aurora Sinistra.

"It's a shame," mused Minerva. "I can't wait to see Hogwarts house children again."

At this, Severus could not hold back a loud barking laugh that rumbled through the Great hall and startled the students into gaping goldfish. Occasionally they had seen their headmaster chuckle or snicker, and his taunting smirk was infamous, but this overt mirth was an extraordinary rarity.

"Children? What do you think those are?" he snorted, pointing at the house tables in front of them.

"It's very rude to eavesdrop!" huffed his second-in-command.

"Headmaster's prerogative," he replied smoothly, "I learned it from the master."

Minerva shook her head exasperatedly and he just caught Sinistra winking at Hermione who giggled happily.


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: character death. Hey, you knew it would happen sooner or later.

Standard issue transitional chapter, coming right up.

**Chapter 3**

As he was reflecting on the need to update the Magical History curriculum and how he was ever going to get the professor that taught the class to agree to that, Headmaster Snape heard heated shouts coming from the entrance hall. The Weasleys, he identified. It didn't occur to him to turn back and grant the arguing couple privacy. That wasn't his style. He'd intended to go to the East wing to speak with professor Binns and so he would. He continued on and the indistinct screeching gradually turned into words.

"CALM DOWN, RON? CALM DOWN? DOLOHOV? ARE YOU INSANE? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE YOU? WHAT THE HELL IS HARRY THINKING?"

"HARRY? DON'T YOU BLAME HARRY! I VOLUNTEERED!"

"YOU WHAT?"

"I VOLUNTEERED! AND YOU'D THINK YOU'D BE HAPPY ABOUT IT. I'M DOING THIS FOR YOU, HERMIONE!"

The screaming ended abruptly and a very angry Hermione Weasley came thundering down the hallway towards the headmaster, her arms flailing wildly as she was muttering under her breath. The snippets that he caught were particularly nasty things that she held in store for her husband's bits.

"Good afternoon, professor," greeted Severus as if he were completely oblivious to the fight that had caused such trouble in paradise.

Hermione huffed, pushed past him and stomped along, still murmuring all sorts of profanities.

Severus quirked an eyebrow, momentarily watched Hermione pound away from him and then entered the Great Hall where Ronald Weasley stood sorely rubbing a red cheek.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley."

"Alright, Snape," responded Weasley distractedly, looking straight past him at the corridor Hermione had just stalked through, away from her spouse.

Severus nodded his head and left the troubled auror to his thoughts. He had a ghost to speak with.

* * *

><p>When professor Weasley appeared for breakfast the next morning, it was clear that she hadn't slept much, if at all. She had taken a seat on the end of the head dais, next to Megaera Thorne, the current Defense teacher. The fourth one in his five-year tenure as reinstated headmaster. He never counted the first year, for obvious reasons. Severus had not rejoiced so much as when professor Thorne returned for her second year in the post last September. Perhaps she hadn't the wartime experience that some of the previous candidates had had, but none of those had lasted. And she was qualified. For now that was enough. As long as the lessons were taught up to standard... He recalled Boris Callahan, who had let the students fight boggarts. ALL YEAR LONG. Since that failure, he had started to keep a much closer eye on the staff's performance. This meant that he'd sit in on every class at least once per term. He smirked as he realised how much a similar practice would have annoyed him if he were still teaching.<p>

It was at that point that Severus's daydreaming was interrupted by two uniformed aurors stepping into the Great Hall. It took exactly one blink to discern Harry Potter -in suit and tie but still with ruffled hair, why couldn't he tame that hair?- behind the pair, eyes downcast. Severus rose to greet the officials, but they ignored him and strode up to Hermione. The two aurors parted like the Red Sea and the boy who lived stepped forward, taking up position between them.

"Harry!" smiled Hermione and sprang to her feet to greet her friend.

"Don't," he said softly and his grave expression stopped her in her tracks and so she just stood behind the table. "For Merlin's sake, don't. I- Hermione... I'm so sorry."

The head of the Auror Department held out his hand. In it lay a 10 and a half inch whitecedar wand. While the wand in itself wasn't spectacular by any means, the ritual presenting of a wand was something most witches and wizards recognised. There was a collective gasp from the Head Table and then the entirety of the Great Hall was nothing but stunned silence.

"Ha bloody ha. I suppose George put you up to this?" professor Weasley smiled, but the expression didn't reach her eyes.

"Hermione, please. It- It's not a joke. It- it-he's- I'm sorry..."

"That's not funny, Harry," she said, her voice faltering a little now.

"Hermione... I- I don't- I don't know how- I never thought- There's... Do you need me to say the words?"

Hermione nodded her head and Harry bit his lip, then nodded in assent, cleared his throat and began a practised speech that no one should ever bear witness to.

"It is with deep sadness and regret that I inform you that your husband, Ronald Bilius Weasley, was killed duri-"

"Enough!" she snapped. Her caramel eyes had gone cold and hard and her breathing was shallow and laboured. Her hands firmly gripped the table as if to ground herself.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry."

A long and laden silence hung between the pair, her staring at Potter and Potter humbly avoiding her incredulous eyes.

"Did he get him?" she questioned finally.

Harry tilted his head to the left and his eyes narrowed.

"Hermione, Ron is-"

"Did. He. Get. Him?"

The Chosen One nodded his head once.

"Good. At least he didn't die for nothing." Her voice was icy and even now, with not a trace of the waver that could be heard earlier. Hermione looked to her side at her colleagues. Severus was still stood and he assumed that's what drew her attention to him.

"I'm going to need a few days leave, professor," she whispered and then turned and left the Great Hall through the door behind the head table.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Four days later, Severus Snape found himself in the Burrow cradling a glass of firewhiskey in his right hand. The domicile was bursting at the seams yet felt serene in the aftermath of such a harrowing morning. The grief-stricken family were sat around the kitchen table, with the newly widowed Mrs. Weasley glass-eyed on one end, flanked by two muggles that Severus recognised as Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Potter sat sullen and withdrawn on the other end next to his wife. Around the table a circle of close friends, mostly former classmates of the thundering threesome, had formed. And then, spread across the ground floor of the Weasley dwelling were the other order members, offering sympathetic words of comfort to the aurors that had come to pay their respects to their fallen colleague. Severus on his part had found a shadowy corner where he could distance himself from the mourners and quietly observe. He was waiting for the time to pass until it would no longer be considered rude to leave.

He mentally went over the events that had led him to this point. He recalled Minerva grabbing her Golden boy along with her as she rushed after the stricken Charms teacher. He had taken the two other aurors up to his office and had held a calm conversation about the arrest: Dolohov had cast an unknown curse on Ronald Weasley. It had apparently been slow and no doubt painful, but it had given the young auror time to stop the death eater with a stunning spell before he succumbed to his injuries. Silver linings was perhaps too strong an expression, but it was fortunate that the bastard at least hadn't gotten away.

He remembered accompanying the group of bereaved Weasleys to Hermione's quarters so they could discuss the necessary arrangements. Arthur and Molly with their hands clasped tightly together, Ginevra and Harry Potter, Fleur and William, Charlie, George, Percy and his wife Audrey, whom Severus had never met before. And they'd all hugged Hermione tightly and sobbed on her shoulder. She had remained stoic and beckoned them in, one by one.

He had seen her again two days later, on his midnight patrol. She was sat in her usual corner of the library amidst a pile of books, breathing deeply with her eyes closed.

_"Professor Weasley? Are you well? Shall I take you to Poppy?"_

_"I'm fine," she rejected his concern. "Do you read poetry, professor?"_

_"Um..."_

_"You see... I- I can't decide. Molly wants me to read something for the funeral. Would you- would you read these and... tell me what you think? I'm supposed to pick by tomorrow. They expect something personal." She thrust a book in his hands and he noticed the small colourful pieces of plastic sticking out on the sides. Bookmarks of some sort. Muggle things. He watched her sigh deeply and frowned._

_"Professor Weasley," Severus said calmly. "Molly wants? You're supposed? They expect? I cannot help but wonder... is this something you wish to do?"_

_She looked up at him._

_"They want me to be involved in the service."_

_"Yes. But what do you want?"_

_"I- I want to just ride this out and be left alone. I need to be alone. They're driving me mad with their eyes full of pity and their _poor Hermione_s. I know they mean well and I know I'm being unduly harsh. They are in just as much pain. But... I can't stand to be around them," she confessed._

_"I'm rather surprised you've not felt that way sooner," he smirked. Oh Merlin, could he have been any ruder? "Circe, I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"_

_"No, professor, it's quite alright. Everyone is already fussing so much over me. Minerva keeps hugging me. Poppy's brought me calming draughts. Do I not seem calm?" She didn't wait for him to answer which was good because at this point, she sounded rather agitated. "Everyone keeps saying they're here if I want to talk about it, but I can't even bare to think about it! No, I'm glad you at least are not being ridiculously delicate with me."_

_"I see. Well then, allow me to give you an indelicate piece of advice, professor. Be selfish. Right now, you don't have to do anything. Nothing. You must grieve however you see fit, not how others want you to. Don't let your family pressure you. Do what you need to do and forget what everyone expects."_

_"Oh," she said. "I-I'll keep that in mind, professor. I- I've been meaning to ask. What- what is happening with my classes?"_

_"Independent study in the library for now. Filius has agreed to read and mark the essays but... ah, I'm going to have to be indelicate again. How long do you think you shall be... away? I only ask because I'd like to know if I need to start thinking about finding a proper substitute."_

_"Oh no. No, I would like to- I'd like to get back to work soon. But I have to get away for a while. Be with my mum and dad. It'll do me good, I think. Maybe... maybe give me another week after the funeral? And then I'll get back in the saddle?"_

_"If you are quite certain, professor Weasley. A week is not much."_

_"I know. But I think I need to keep busy. Keep calm and carry on and that."_

_"Quite. Should you change your mind though, tell me. I won't bite. Contrary to popular belief, Vampirism is not for me."_

_She gave him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes and then got up._

_"Good night, sir."_

_"Good night, professor," he replied._

At the funeral, she had not read anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **To write is to edit. I honestly write my chapters easily but then spend days prodding them with a very pointy stick and some pruning shears. I can never tell if I actually improve upon the original or just make it sound poncy though. xD Anyway, next chappie! Hope you enjoy.

**AN 2:** It's been pointed out to me that it wasn't Neville who discovered the fluxweed but Dobby. I do confuse film and book canon sometimes, because it's been a good few years since I last read the books. So yes, I own up to that and I'm considering altering that particular paragraph. I do like Neville as the herbology hero though (I also like alliterations, can you tell?) but yes, apologies for er, non-canonicalness. That's not a word, is it?

**Chapter 5**

Like had been the case at many funerals he had attended, the ambiance had gradually shifted. First there had been only sorrow and tears. Then the stories had come, the reminiscing, and as memories were shared, the atmosphere lightened. There was restrained laughter, as if the listeners were uncertain that such merriment was permitted.

Severus paid little attention to the tales, instead he watched her. Her hands were lying on the table top, wrapped around a cup of tea, fingers restless. Her right thumb and middle finger kept twisting and pulling at the thin wedding band on her left annulary. Those absentminded drifting fingers exposed her emotional state. It wasn't unusual for Hermione's hands to be preoccupied, to be playing with whatever happened to be available to them but this fussing was symbolic. Snape wasn't the only one to take notice. Mrs. Granger's hand drifted over her daughter's and stroked the fondling digits without stilling them. Hermione looked up at her mother. The middle-aged woman leaned in, kissed the temple of the curly-haired lass and spoke a simple "I love you." Hermione's brown orbs darted back down and she looked completely numb again. A worried look flew between the pair of dentists.

George finished his account chuckling a droll: "And of course he never stole from old Flume again!" Hermione's lips curled but her eyes remained hollow. Her smile was a capitulation to social expectations. She realised that the anecdotes were meant to soothe and abate and so her mild mien displayed the aspired improved mood. Those empty eyes however betrayed that none of the consolatory words were reaching her broken heart. She heard them, but they meant nothing.

"More tea, anyone?" offered Potter and he cautiously glanced at Hermione who was still fingering the cup. She didn't acknowledge him, wouldn't even look at him and suddenly Severus understood. She was blaming Boy Wonder for her husband's death. It made sense, after the argument he'd caught the night before the unfortunate raid. Hermione Weasley had thought it was a suicide mission and of course now it was clear that she hadn't been wrong in her assessment, but hindsight was 20/20.

"Hermione?" asked Potter explicitly now.

"No, thank you," came an icy reply. Her eyes told the same story but in different words: there was no cold, frosty distance there but instead a fiery, blazing fury. If looks could kill, Hermione would have succeeded where the Dark Lord himself had failed so many times.

"Hermione..." tried Potter with a deep sigh.

"What?" she snapped and the Auror who lived - pun unintended and grossly inappropriate, Severus immediately interrupted his inner monologue. Gods, he was a sick fuck sometimes - recoiled, then threw his wife an anguished look. Ginevra shook her head almost imperceptibly and mouthed "Leave it."

Potter glanced from Ginevra to Hermione and sighed again.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly. I am," he said, hung his head and shuffled his way over to the kettle for that refill. Hermione scoffed and turned her face away and the light in those caramel pools faded once again. Severus couldn't help but feel sorry for the lad. Somehow, despite what he'd overheard, he had thought that she would gravitate towards her best friend and they would work through the pain together. Wasn't there some inane saying about doubling joys and halving grief with friends?

Neville Longbottom cleared his throat and drew the room in. Longbottom's subtle but adept claiming of the floor evoked more flashbacks in Severus Snape. How that boy had grown up, commanding everyone's attention like that... What was once a clumsy, anxious and sluggish runt, now was a man whom the feared professor could respect.

The first time that Severus had been forced to alter his views on the terror of the potions class had been when the fourteen-year-old had advised Harry Potter to use Gillyweed for the water trial in the Triwizard Cup. That was the turning point: the moment in time when Severus realised the boy wasn't just biding his time in the prestigious school. He did have talent. Potions just wasn't it.

This epiphany did not hinder Severus in his harsh treatment of the dunderhead though. Longbottom was not a potions prodigy and that in itself was something Severus might be able to accept, but his lack of sense in the subject was at times downright dangerous and rigid discipline was fundamental in ensuring a safe classroom. He did change the nature of the boy's detentions. He'd replaced the standard cauldron cleaning duties with sorting and labelling ingredients, something Mr. Longbottom was actually rather brilliant at: he could tell a deer mushroom from a leaden entoloma in the blink of an eye. Severus had always needed to double check that particular fungus with an identification spell himself.

Then there had been his first year as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Longbottom and his friends had rebelled and had done so with fervour and determination. It had been risky; provoking the Carrows had severe repercussions and Severus could only do so much to stop the torturous punishments that their sick, twisted minds would come up with. But he had pretended to be oblivious to the safe haven that the Room of Requirement had become and had sent as many disobedient students to Hagrid for detention as he could get away with.

Having to cover the children's tracks as they opposed the new authority had made Severus's life incalculably more difficult in those days but he had admired the insurgent urchins for their persistence and yes, bravery. As much as Severus generally ridiculed the much lauded Gryffindor courage - it was too often used as a euphemism for careless pigheadedness - he had taken secret pleasure in witnessing the DA students hold their own that year, never submitting to the dark madness that ruled the school with a rod of iron.

He had been awed when he was told of how the boy had renounced Voldemort despite the despair they must have all felt when Harry was brought to them, presumed dead, and how he had singlehandedly lit the flame for the Light again with his rousing, defiant words. In the subsequent battle, to substantiate his contempt for the megalomaniac, Neville Longbottom had trimmed the overlord's pet by several inches. Yes, the herbologist had become a man of honour in that final year, and Severus was pleased to see that the young man was still worthy of the improved esteem Snape held him in, when he raised a heartfelt toast.

"To Ron. In death a hero, as in life a friend!" said Longbottom borrowing Alexander Pope's words.

"To Ron."

Severus raised his glass with all the other attendees, thoroughly impressed with the chosen quotation. Hermione broke. Shimmering crystalline droplets inched their way down her cheeks, accompanied only by quiet whimpers. It was Mr. Granger's hand that landed on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. Harry cried with her but did not dare approach her. He was offered solace by Ginevra, her arm curling around her spouse and hugging him against her shoulder. Severus thought that Potter looked worse now than he had in all his years running from he-who-must-not be-named. At the loss of his best friends, he looked like he'd been given the dementor's kiss and it was a sad sight indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you for your lovely reviews. They do encourage me to keep going with this story, even if it is slow torture. Ah well, brought it on myself, didn't I?

**Chapter 6:**

Severus knocked on the door and waited for Hermione Weasley to open it. When the door swung on its hinges, he was struck by her dishevelled appearance. She was dressed in simple black leggings and a baggy grey jumper - a hoodie, he corrected. It was at least three sizes too big for her and hung loosely around her figure. It reached halfway down her thighs. Then he wondered if it had been Ronald's. That would make sense, likely she was drawing some sort of comfort from it. As he realised that he was gawking at her, he inwardly chastised himself for his appalling manners and snapped out of it. He willed himself to put on his poker face.

"Mrs. Weasley, good afternoon. The house elves told me that you had returned."

"So I have, but I'm not sure I appreciate being spied on," she retorted softly and her eyes narrowed.

"I only asked them to inform me of your arrival because I have these for you," he explained.

He waved his wand, wordlessly performing a simple conjuring spell. A jute sack brimming with envelopes and parchments materialised from the tip of the wand and hovered a few inches above the floor.

"Condolences, I suspect," he said. "Where do you want them?"

"Gods..." she murmured and stepped aside to let him pass. "Erm. Maybe next to the table?" Severus levitated the bag to the spot she'd suggested and finished the enchantment on it by a flick of his wrist, severing the connection between his wand and the sack of letters. It dropped to the floor with a dull thud and a rustle of shifting paper.

"Why did you have these, sir? Don't the owls normally just come to whoever the letter is addressed to?" she questioned.

"Things got out of hand after the announcement was published in The Daily Prophet on Tuesday. The Minister intervened. Only Albus was whimsical enough to risk the Statute of Secrecy by allowing a muggle neighbourhood to be overrun by owls," he referred to the episode with Potter's acceptance letters, "so your post got sent here while you were staying with your parents. The first two days were especially bad, it's slowed to more of a trickle now."

"I see," she said and nodded, accepting the explanation. For several long seconds they just looked at each other, awkwardly. He felt terribly out of place stood in her quarters, amongst her things. Their things. Ronald grinned and waved at him from a bookshelf. And their wedding photo was stood on the sideboard: Ronald kissing his wife soundly. Severus didn't know how to proceed, had no clue what to do or what to say to her. What were you supposed to talk about with someone who was mad with grief for the love of their life?

"Do you still intend to resume your classes on Monday?" he asked finally, resorting to dry facts.

"Yes. Yes, I do," she confirmed, not offering him anything to hang a conversation on.

"Right. Well, if you change your mind,..." he repeated himself.

"Yes, I know. But I'll be fine."

"Of course," he replied but he doubted it.

She was a wreck. He found himself considering her gaunt features once again. She really didn't look well. She looked positively crestfallen, her features sunken and pale. Her eyes were reddened and her hair was knotted and even messier than usual.

"I look a fright. I know," she interrupted his train of thought. "I'll tidy myself up for class, don't worry," she defended herself but there was no fight in her voice.

"I'm sorry, that was rather rude of me," he admitted.

He had been staring and she'd caught him at it, it would not do to pretend otherwise. It was not the Slytherin way to grovel or weasel one's way out of an embarrassing situation with poor excuses. It wasn't the Snape way either. So he apologised and corrected the offending behaviour.

"R-right. I- er- um..." she stammered as if an apology had been the last thing she'd expected.

"Thank you. For bringing me the letters," came her husky tones next.

"You're quite welcome, professor," he said.

Ugh, why was this so hard? Why was this conversation so stilted? Before this, they'd gotten along reasonably well. They hadn't been friends, but they could hold a civilised conversation. There'd been a few discussions of the curriculum, exchanges of ideas, analyses of the students. They'd even joked rather pleasantly at the wedding reception. But of course things had been different then. Now it seemed wholly inappropriate to talk about trivialities. Then he noticed how the delicate skin under her eyes was tinged pink and looked dry and a little raw. She must've been crying an awful lot for her skin to be so inflamed.

"Use cotton handkerchiefs instead of paper tissues," he advised.

"What?" she blurted, looking completely bewildered.

"Cotton. It is easier on the skin. Your eyes. They look sore," came his clarification.

"Oh. I suppose they are a bit. From all the crying, you see."

"Yes. Yes, well, try lanolin or petroleum jelly to soothe the area. If that doesn't help, you could ask Poppy for a healing salve but make sure it doesn't contain dittany, unless you don't mind going blind," he suggested with just a touch of causticity.

"Right," she mumbled and gave him a thoughtful look. "Would you like to stay for some tea, headmaster?" she offered.

"No. No, thank you. I should be going," declined Severus and she nodded. Once again, she moved to the side and he strode past her, out of the rooms and into the corridor.

"Mrs. Weasley..." he hesistated.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

That spurious smile was back, the one that betrayed that her heart wasn't in it.

"Thank you," she said and he nodded curtly and left.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Well, Here we are again. I do apologise for the long hiatus. Life got in the way. I've also taken a lot of time to think of where I wanted to go with this story and now have a decent outline. Go me, I planned!  
>Those who know my own history will realise this is hard for me to write as Hermione's pain is one that I know well.<br>Finally, I decided to take the focus off the grief a bit for this chapter, it needed a lighter note. So up next: Severus v. Minerva. Enjoy!

**AN 2:** Oh dear. I was really -and I mean REALLY- unhappy with this chapter, so I've given it a major make over. I think it's improved enormously, but I'd welcome your comments. Here goes!

**Chapter 7:**

The headmaster and his deputy had a standing appointment to share Sunday lunch in his office. As they ate, sat in lavish armchairs in the far oriel, the one that overlooked the courtyard; they would discuss school affairs. The house elves' delectable roast beef made going over budget allocations, grant applications and governors meetings a lot more palatable. But when pudding and coffee appeared, the elder of the pair would often digress from the running of the institute to subjects more banal. Tonight's subject of choice: the bereaved Charms professor.

"I worry about her, you know," came Minerva McGonagall's Scottish lilt and the woman donned an absolutely perfect execution of the concept "worry lines".

The headmaster knew that a long and tiresome rant would follow. He was thankful that at least he had already managed to finish his dessert as it would be entirely impossible to properly savour the beautiful sticky toffee pudding while an annoying brogue was demanding to be acknowledged. He picked up a last walnut, then released a weary sigh and put down his spoon.

The deputy headmistress looked fierce. Ready to vent and moan and talk his ear off. Perhaps he'd toy with her. Just a bit.

"More coffee, Minerva?" he tried by way of a distraction.

"Ah yes, please," she accepted and as he poured he changed the subject.

"The Chudley Cannons are making a right hash of it this season."

"That's not going to work, young man."

"The swap of Taylor for the Harpies' Hughes? No, I don't think it will either. With only 3 more games, that'll never make up for the atrocious season they've-"

"SEVERUS!"

"Oh sorry, do you want milk, sugar? You don't normally take any so I didn't offer but-"

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" He had never been so grateful for his lack of a middle name as he was now, for she would have invoked it for sure. It was an irate woman kind of thing, addressing one by one's full name.

"Minerva McGonagall?" he retorted.

"Don't get cheeky with me, lad! I've known you since you were yea high and I know exactly what you're trying to do. And it. won't. work."

"Pardon?"

"I said," she emphasised, "that I worry about her."

"Who are we talking about?"

Her exasperated squeal was sharp enough to pierce less hardy eardrums than his own and reverberated through the headmaster's office, bouncing off the walls.

The glare that Minerva threw at him was no less intimidating than the one he himself had patented and it surfaced in no seconds flat. Her frown deepened, her lips thinned and her eyes were unwaveringly fixed upon him, staring him down. It had occurred to him many times before that the head of Gryffindor House truly was a force to reckon with if she wished you ill. Feigning ignorance was obviously a pointless endeavour and further resistance was futile, he realised. He caved with a resigned sigh, leaned back, crossed his arms and nodded, bestowing Minerva with his full attention.

"Professor Weasley then?" he allowed as graciously as he could muster.

"Yes, Severus, Hermione," enunciated Minerva in clipped tones, a known preliminary to the tedious tirade he'd been trying to avoid.

He murmured something indistinct and waved his hand vaguely. He did not want it to sound like an invitation to please, elaborate, share your enlightened insights because I am dying to hear more about it, but Minerva would interpret it exactly so. With a bit of luck, it would calm her and if he nodded and hmm'ed in all the right places, perhaps the storm would blow over quickly.

"Thank you!" Already she sounded appeased. Ah, he could play her like a- well, he didn't actually play an instrument, but if he did, he could play her like that. So there.

"So about poor Hermione-"

Poor Hermione. His brief interaction with _poor Hermione_ in the library just over a week earlier sprang to mind. Severus grunted. A noncommittal sound that was again accepted as encouragement.

"It's not even been two weeks and she wants to start teaching again. It's madness. Utter madness. Have you seen her since she got back? Because I have and I'm telling you, Severus, the lass is a mess. A complete mess!" exhorted the woman energetically, ready to fight him again should he be dismissive of her worrying.

"Hm. I know," agreed Severus calmly, "but when we spoke, she claimed she'd manage."

"That's poppycock and you know it. I've never seen her like this. She took better care of herself during NEWTs and you must remember how frantic she was then? The girl is shutting down completely! She won't speak to anyone, won't speak even to me!" she expounded and suddenly a greyed eyebrow arched upwards and briefly, so briefly, she stilled. Her agitated flailing arms fell into her lap and she took a visible breath before addressing him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"You spoke to her? YOU spoke to her? When? How? What? She spoke to YOU? When?"

Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow at her.

"Lovely. Is it so incredible that she would speak to me? Because of course your conversation is highly preferable over my own what with me being an acerbic bastard?" he suggested.

"I- I didn't say that, Severus, I did not! But... well... er..."

"Lovely," he hummed calmly, quirking his eyebrow further.

"No, that's- that's not fair. I was her Head of House, Severus. And I'd like to think I'm her friend now. It's- it's different! You- you- you're her employer! That's what! And you're not exactly known for your gentle caring personality, are you? It's only natural that she would be more likely to confide in me. I mean, you're not a nice man- er, no- What I mean to say is- It's not so far-fetched of me to assume-"

"Lovely," he repeated for the third time and he enjoyed seeing her squirm as she kept digging a deeper hole for herself. "If you're quite through insulting me?"

"I- " But then her mouth snapped shut and his lip curled into a smug smirk.

"I thought so. Now, I'll have you know that professor Weasley confided in me that she abhors the incessant fussing."

"But-"

"No, Minerva. She has enough on her plate. If she wants to be left alone, you leave her alone."

"But-"

He really, really wanted to make a sharp remark about an overprotective mothering hen who would not acknowledge that her protégée had come into her own, but refrained. More flies with honey, and all that.

"You mean well, of course," he soothed, "and you have every right to be concerned, but it seems to me that what that woman needs right now, what she expressly wishes in fact, is time and space," he suggested gently.

Minerva was wringing her hands in her lap and frowning deeply. But she had stopped protesting.

"If she says she will be fine, you must accept it. Support, Minerva, not control. Let her make her own decisions, at her own pace. Do not interfere, unless you are asked to. By her, not by anyone else."

She looked at him as if she were sizing him up.

"What?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable under the close scrutiny.

"This is... unexpected."

"Is it? I thought she's always been remarkably self-sufficient. For a Gryffindor, that is."

"Thanks," she rolled her eyes. "I just didn't think you cared."

"I am merely protecting my resources, Minerva. Mrs. Weasley is the most prodigious charms mistress in the wizarding world and I should like to keep her on staff and productive. There will be no research grants if she flies of the rails. And she does not respond well to smothering. She works better when she is challenged, not coddled."

"That's- Ugh, you're impossible!" she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"What else is new?" he chuckled. "So, who's playing keeper for Gryffindor this weekend? Banes still seemed a bit peaky to me," he once again changed the subject.

"Did he? Well, even peaky that little Harrison that Slytherin keep playing has nothing on him," Minerva grinned. And he was relieved that this time, she had accepted the new topic. Care. About Hermione Weasley? Really now.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** Oh my word. She is writing again! I know, guys. I know. I can offer nothing to excuse this appalling hiatus, but I can say that beta'ing for ThatShotgunGirl kicked my arse into gear and I feel inspired again. A change of workplace helped too. It's so nice to have colleagues who are optimistic and encouraging as opposed to whiny and always negative and feeling more free in my work, has given me more room to be creative in my head too.

Anyways, I just love the dynamic between Severus and Minerva, so I thought I'd play with those two a bit more. I promise you though, next chapter will be all Severus and Hermione. So on with the show!

**Chapter 8**

When Hermione Weasley showed up for breakfast on Monday morning, she had tidied up, as promised. With her hair was pulled into a loose plait, and under her heather grey cotton robes just a hint of the collar of a Cambridge blue shirt, she looked as she always did: professional and professorial. There still lingered a shadowed pallor about her features but the tender patches under her eyes had improved immensely and Severus felt quietly gratified that she must have taken his advice. Despite the improvement of the prodigal teacher's outward appearance, she was still very clearly in turmoil. She refused to be drawn into any sort of conversation. In fact, the only words crossing her lips when asked how she was feeling were a very curt "_fine_" and when posed the same question by her former head of house, a weary but decidedly more frank "_exhausted but_ _coping as best I can_". She rewarded professor Thorne with a weak smile when the Defense teacher squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Hermione proceeded to pour herself some coffee, pulled a copy of the Quibbler towards her and started reading. Severus had to admire how very effective she was in claiming her peace and quiet. Every now and again she would pick up a sugar cube, stir it into her coffee and then resumed reading. That had happened six times now, but she was yet to take a single sip of the drink.

Minerva frowned and elbowed the Headmaster in the side. He winced and rubbed his abused ribs.

Her chin inclining towards the violated coffee. _Are you watching this?_

Severus nodding his head once. _I am._

Her eyebrows shooting up. _Well?_

His brows mirroring hers. _Well what?_

A frown on her face. _Surely I should-?_

His eyes narrowing. _Minerva..._

Her lips pursing tightly. _But!_

His lips curling into a scowl. _Leave off_.

Her eyes rolling. _This is stupid._

With a disdainful snort, Minerva turned away from him and addressed Hermione who was about to drop lump number seven into her drink.

"I think that's sweet enough now, dear."

"Hm? I always take two lumps," assured Hermione.

"Er-" hesitated Minerva. "Right. Well then. Aren't you going to eat something?"

"Not hungry," mumbled the brown-haired witch. She put the mug to her lips and made a moue at the taste. The mug was pushed away.

"You should eat. Some fruit perhaps?" the Transfiguration teacher gestured towards a bowl of sliced apple and banana.

"No, thank you," refused Hermione.

"Or maybe some a croissant? The house elves made the most delicious pains au choc-"

"I said I wasn't hungry," emphasised the Charms teacher with an annoyed scowl.

"But wouldn't you enjoy a piece of-"

"I'm. Not. Hungry!" snapped Hermione. The widowed young woman rose to her feet, snatched up her Quibbler and left.

"That went well," Severus observed casually.

"Shut up," complained his deputy and he could not suppress a self-satisfied snigger.

At lunch, Minerva again tried to get food down professor Weasley and again it didn't take long for Hermione to up and leave. By dinnertime, the Gryffindor Head had learned her lesson and kept her mouth shut. And then Hermione reached for a small piece of steamed salmon and a tiny helping of mange-tout beans.

Another wordless conversation took place as Severus lifted one eyebrow and gave Minerva a small smug smile. She rolled her eyes at him and pursed her lips. He chuckled and tucked into his own plate of fish (fried, not steamed), greens and new potatoes.

As the days went by, Hermione's appetite and mood improved. She still didn't talk much, but by the end of the week, she no longer hid behind the paper and listened in to the conversations at the Head dais.

"How are your classes going, Hermione?" asked Meghaera Thorne on Friday. The Charms Mistress looked up and gave a small smile.

"It's um... a bit weird. The students obviously all know what's happened and they're on their best behaviour, which is sweet but also very awkward. Then again, I'm not sure that I could cope if they were their usual rowdy selves."

"Gosh, Hermione. I can't believe how well you're doing. You're so strong," said her friend softly.

"I- " She paused and swallowed, visibly uncomfortable. "I'm really not," she suddenly sounded thin and fragile. Her eyes were welling up and she pushed her chair back, moving to leave, Severus could only assume to go have a cry in private. Severus made a quick decision.

"You're not teaching the O.W.L.s class this afternoon, professor," he ordered as she rose.

"But- But we're already behind!" Hermione protested.

"And you're going to catch up while you're crying your eyes out? I hardly think so!" he barked and she gasped and took a step back, away from him.

"I-I'm sorry..." she whispered and bit her lip as tears began to flow. She turned and fled.

"Huh?"

"Oh, well done, Severus!" exclaimed Minerva next to him.

"What did I do?" he asked, wide-eyed and confused.

"What did you-? You all but told her she is incompetent!"

"I did no such thing! I merely thought she shouldn't be teaching if she wasn't feeling up to it! I was offering her a break!"

"Really? You might want to run that back to yourself then, because it sounded like a _pull your act together_ rather than a _take it easy_," corrected professor McGonagall.

He frowned and considered the conversation. Well, maybe she had a point.

"She's a bit sensitive, isn't she?" he mumbled evasively.

"You were a bit abrupt, is what it is. Honestly, Severus, don't you ever think before you speak?"

Professor Thorne sighed and shook her head.

"While you two sort out whatever this is," she gestured between both of her superiors, "I'll go see how Hermione is then, shall I?"

Minerva blinked and Severus's eyebrows rebelled but both fell completely silent. They stared down at their empty plates, thoroughly humbled by the youngest member of staff's choice words. Severus considered himself chastised. Bickering like an old married couple wasn't helping anyone.

"She has quite a mouth on her, hasn't she?" blurted Minerva, but very quietly.

"For someone without tenure, certainly," confirmed Severus sotto voce.

"Completely out of line."

"I'll take professor Weasley's class."

"Good thinking," agreed Minerva.


End file.
